


Faoladh

by 3rdgenderfromthesun



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Intersex, Knotting, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Mates, Mild Blood, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Werewolf Mates, white knight - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-14
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2019-01-17 11:38:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 19,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12364938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3rdgenderfromthesun/pseuds/3rdgenderfromthesun
Summary: Prince Stiles has always been in love with the legend of the Faoladh- skin walkers who use the pelt of wolves to transform into their feral counterparts- but he never imagined he would be kidnapped in order to lure out the supposedly mythical creatures. The legends said that they found and returned lost children to their families and guarded the woods surrounding his father's kingdom, but Stiles was long past being a child when a dark furred Faoladh came to his rescue.





	1. Chapter 1

Stiles pulled his horse up and pointed to a grassy hill above the river. Scott shielded his eyes and nodded.

“Yeah, that’s perfect,” Scott replied.

Stiles dismounted and held Scott’s horse steady while he climbed down. Scott had had poor health from birth and had turned blue once as an infant. When Stiles’ mother had found out that one of the maid’s in his castle was afraid to leave her child alone she’d asked her to become Stiles’ nursemaid and together they’d kept both babies fed and safe. Melissa had been shocked to find the queen herself happily nursing both infants, but Queen Claudia had pointed out that mother’s milk was mother’s milk. It had one purpose, and that was to feed a baby. Whose baby hardly mattered, as long as no infants suffered in her kingdom. When others had heard of the queen’s generosity and love babies started appearing on their doorstep. Some were past nursing age, but several needed a wetnurse. Melissa and Claudia had known that not all could be kept at the castle so she had turned a wing into an orphanage and called for those who had lost their children to illness or were unable to have their own. They hired many wetnurses and tried to find them homes quickly, but a few ended up growing up at the castle and became close friends with Stiles. Lydia, Jackson, and Allison fought like siblings with Stiles and Scott more often than not. They were referred to as the Royal Pains by most of the castle staff, though the term was lovingly given. Stiles called them his pack because of his own obsessive study of the Faoladh, men and women who donned the skins of wolves and ran wild in the woods.

Stiles got Scott up the hill safely, letting his ‘brother’ lean on his arm to ensure he didn’t get winded by exerting too much effort. Once he was there Stiles spread out their picnic blanket and then looked down the hill after the rest of his pack. Jackson was trying to grope Lydia while helping her dismount but Allison was chiding him and promising to protect her virtue. Allison was a competitive archer and a squire to Lord Deucalion. He had offered to adopt her despite the fact that she was an adult and Allison had happily accepted since it meant she would be able to stay at the castle with her new father. Sadly, they weren’t all pairing off. Stiles had an unrequited love for Lydia who had eyes only for Jackson and Scott was madly in love with Allison who had eyes only for her archery targets. It didn’t help that Scott lacked the confidence to approach her since he was often seen as sickly and weak.

“Hey!” Stiles shouted, “Stop flirting and get up here with the food! I’m starving!”

“Yes your highness!” The three on the ground mocked in singing tones.

Stiles rolled his eyes and nudged Scott, “Have I mentioned that I could have them executed?”

“Not today you haven’t,” Scott chuckled.

“They don’t respect me,” Stiles shook his head, hands on his hips.

“You don’t respect you,” Scott teased, nudging Stiles gently.

“You’re my only true friend, Scott.”

“I’m your breast brother,” Scott teased, but he’d said it a bit too loud and Lydia frowned at him.

“There are _ladies_ present,” Lydia scolded.

“Sorry, Jackson,” Both Stiles and Scott replied.

Jackson shoved Stiles onto the blanket and he laughingly swooned, “Oh no! Don’t take my virtue! You cad!”

“Your virtue is _completely_ safe,” Jackson’s face twisted up in disgust.

“Nobody wants to jump your skinny bones, Stiles,” Lydia taunted.

“Aww,” Allison crooned, “Don’t let them upset you, sweetie. I’m sure somebody will come along soon.”

“I’m so soothed,” Stiles sighed, “No defense of my gorgeous body? Just somebody? Someday? My hopes are totally inflated.”

“Your head is inflated,” Jackson taunted, sitting down on the blanket and tearing up some grass to drop onto Stiles’ face. Stiles spat and wiped at it, sitting up quickly.

“Dude! You suck!” Stiles sputtered while the rest laughed.

Scott lay down on the blanket and studied the clouds while everyone broke out their foods. They used to tease him about his lack of activity, but Stiles wouldn’t stand for it and he’d gotten angry enough to exclude them completely at one point. Now they simply allowed it with minimal glares. Everyone was required to work; everyone except Scott, who was too weak to work. Melissa had hoped he could become a scholar or monk, but he showed no talent for studies and was too interested in women to take vows. He often joked that his job was to be the village idiot, and he’d make sure to be present for every single meal and make jokes to entertain the group. He got all his jokes from Stiles because he wasn’t creative enough, but so far no one had found that out.

After eating the group took to playing, chasing each other around in a rousing game of blind-man’s bluff. Stiles told everyone to stay clear of the river but someone still managed to lure him there and he sloshed in up to his ankles. He shouted at them and chased them in the opposite direction, running straight into a tree and falling on his ass. Laughter met his ears and he fumbled towards the sound again, but someone shouted that he was going the wrong way. Except it _sounded_ like the right way.

“Yeah, nice try!” Stiles laughed, chasing the voices and grasping his hands out to try and catch someone.

“Stiles?!” A worried voice called, and this time they sounded far away and behind him. Stiles paused, confused.

 _“Stiles_ ,” Someone sang at him, the voice taunting and unfamiliar.

Stiles reached up hesitantly to pull at his blindfold but a finger touched his lips, “Shhh. Not yet.”

Stiles stilled and reached out slowly towards the soft, feminine voice. His hand met the curve of a breast and he gasped and pulled it back. Taunting laughter made his ears ring.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” A melodious voice mocked, “Don’t you know what to do with those?”

Stiles reached up and pulled his blindfold off quickly, blinking in the light as he stared up at a woman with long blonde hair that ended in soft curls. She smirked at him as he stared at her in shock right before a sharp pain sprouted at the back of his head. Stiles was knocked to the ground, quickly bound and gagged, and thrown onto the back of a horse before he could utter a sound.


	2. Chapter 2

 

King Stilinski paced the throne room, hand running over his face. Jackson and Allison had returned to the castle last, and with them his hopes had been dashed. The two had worn their horses to collapse and scratched themselves to scars on brambles chasing after Stiles’ abductors. They had returned to the castle a day later, devastated after having lost the trail.

“We marked as far as we tracked,” Allison told the king, voice quivering with fear and sorrow, “We lost them at the river fjord. We crossed but… they must have traveled up or down the river. We split up but traveled miles past uncrossable areas and found nothing. We thought they might have turned around, but-“

“Enough,” Stilinski replied softly, “You did what you could. While you were gone a ransom note came in. Or rather… a statement.”

“What do they want?” Scott asked softly from where he sat at the foot of the throne on the top step. His eyes were red from crying.

“They want us to destroy the _faoladh_. Only then will they return Stiles unharmed in an exchange for their pelts.”

“The _faoladh_?” Lydia asked, “They’re a myth!”

Stilinski paused and studied her for a moment, “Yes, a myth, much as banshees are myths. However, in this case they happen to be very real. The _faoladh_ have protected the poor for centuries, hunting down enemies in our country who attempt to use the common people as leverage against the crown. They are considered the protectors of children, wounded men, and lost persons. When war breaks out they ensure that only soldiers partake. Their pack has known ours for centuries and it wasn’t uncommon for my ancestors to give them a young orphan to be raised by them in order to make sure the bloodlines stayed strong. Call it a tribute, if you will. My late wife thought that barbaric and put a stop to it, choosing to open the first orphanage in our capital instead. By rights Scott should have gone to them as they often accepted infants too weak to survive to adulthood as Scott would have been had Queen Claudia not intervened.”

“I’d have grown up without Stiles?” Scott asked with wide eyes.

Stilinski stepped down from the dais, putting a hand on his shoulder as he passed, “We haven’t been in contact in nearly two decades. I have to find a way to reach them.”

“What will they do?” Scott asked, standing slowly and following the king as he headed towards his council chambers, “Will they find him? They can find him, right?”

“Well,” Stilinski turned towards him, “That is what we must hope for as I highly doubt that they will turn in their pelts to be burnt and then sacrifice themselves. Not for a king who betrayed their treaty with this country.”

“But that isn’t Stiles’ fault!” Scott argued, following him at a faster pace. His breath caught in his throat and Stilinski turned to him.

“Catch your breath. He needs you alive when he returns. Do not lose hope.”

XXX

Derek and his mother followed the scent of blood to their altar. She approached slowly, ears high as she sniffed the air for their betrayers. For centuries this altar had been used to sacrifice food and occasionally infants to their pack, but it had been silent for two decades. Due to that abandonment Derek had gone without a mate, as there were no ‘wolves that he was unrelated to. He had attempted to court a human, but she had become violent and disgusted when she found out that his human form was a temporary one. The idea of spending her life with or even _as_ one had driven her to attempt to kill them. The gods had been on their side that night and a violent rainstorm put out most of the fire and kept the rest at bay while they escaped. They had moved their home to a further, more isolated location but his mother still insisted on checking the altar regularly.

Derek growled low as they approached, studying the morsel left for them. It had been cut open, the guts placed in a bowl to the right while as much blood as possible lay in a bowl to the left. The remaining fur, meat, and bones lay carefully gutted on the center stone. Derek didn’t go up to it. It was days old and the damn thing was rotting. Flies had already paid it a maternal visit. They wouldn’t be accepting this offering and Derek was already disgruntled that an attempt had even been _made_. There hadn’t been a war in a generation. They still sometimes found and returned lost children, but for the most part they kept out of human affairs and the humans had written them off as myths.

Derek liked the arrangement. Why should they risk their neck for some bastards who abandoned them just because peace had finally come to them? Peace that they had helped them find! Derek shook his ears but his mother transformed and stepped up to the altar with just her pelt wrapped around her bare shoulders. She dipped a finger into the blood and wrote across the altar. Derek shifted to see her response. It was instructions to meet. Derek straightened up, scowling angrily at her for giving them a second of her time.

“Mother!” Derek snapped.

“It does us no harm to hear them out, my son.”

“They _abandoned_ us,” Derek snarled.

“Then they will give us a _very_ good reason why,” Talia replied, turning to him with an amused smile, “You have so much anger, my son. Where is your sweet smile hiding?”

“In burnt logs,” Derek snapped irritably, “Which never would have happened if I had been given a mate as promised.”

“Perhaps they were waiting for the perfect person,” Talia replied with a fond pat to his scruffy hair.

Derek growled irritably but she merely laughed off his sass and passed him to head for the woods once more. She pulled the hood up on her wolf skin and dropped to all fours in a smooth fluid motion that Derek could never recreate no matter how often he tried. He stomped after her, jerking his hood over his head, and once his eyes peered out the holes of the pelt’s eyes his body shifted and dropped to four legs with a quick _swish_ of shifting bone and muscle. The magic had long taken the pain away and his bones never even popped anymore. He was born to the pack and was told that he had an easier time of the transformation, but then he had no comparison since there were no turned wolves his age.

XXX

Two hours later his mother stepped out of the woods and into a prairie while Derek paced the border and growled loud enough to convince them there were multiple wolves. Frankly, there were, but they were further off and had cooler heads than Derek. A man in rich clothes approached his mother while two very young guards stayed back. They were armed with swords but had respectfully placed their bows on the ground. Derek had no doubt that they could easily swoop them up with efficiency and speed, but not before his mother could rip out their throats. The man gave Talia a slight bow and she returned it respectfully. Derek heard the male guard whisper that she didn’t bow fully. The woman replied that she wasn’t required to: she was a queen in her own right. Derek decided the girl wasn’t awful, but the boy deserved a beating.

“Greetings Alpha,” The king spoke, “I was young when we last met and my memory is poor. Remind an old king of your name?”

“Alpha Talia,” She replied, “I have been young for many decades and humans vanish before me too quickly. Too long have we gone without human contact. Remind me of the name of the current king?”

“His Royal Majesty King John Stilinski,” The young guard spoke up with a bite of arrogance in his voice.

“Is that your name?” Talia taunted, “My, my, and tell me, who has helped the Stilinski’s keep the thrown these many generations?”

“You have, Alpha Talia,” He replied softly, “Your pack has.”

“My pack,” Talia nodded, “Who you have denied sacrifice for nearly twenty years now.”

“My wife was expecting a baby. She was ill throughout the pregnancy and for long after until her life was taken. She feared having to give up her own children some day so she begged me to revoke the oath. In my love for her I allowed myself to be swayed. I humbly apologize for my betrayal and offer you a sacrifice today,” The king gestured to the sarcastic young man behind him who stepped forward with a proud smile on his face, “If you will aid me I will give you a backlog of sacrifices as well.”

“I think you’ll find,” The guard sneered, “That I am _not_ the weak infants you are used to receiving.”

Then he flexed his pecks. Twice. It might not have been visible to human eyes, but Derek could see it beneath the chainmail. He instantly hated the smug twerp.

“Do you often speak without permission?” Talia asked, giving him her attention and raising both eyebrows in disdain, “If so I may have to reduce you to the status of our previous offerings by _ripping out your tongue_.”

Derek snorted in amusement, huffing out a laugh as he watched the human swallow hard and lower his eyes in proper supplication.

“I will accept your offering,” Talia stated clearly, “and ask for more information before I extend my _already reduced_ pack members to rush to your aid.”

“My son,” Stilinski faltered for a moment, swallowing hard as emotion showed through. Derek could smell the stench of his emotions, “My son has been abducted by unknown persons. They demanded I betray you in order to have him returned. I find myself unable to do so. I would beg your help instead.”

“How do I know this isn’t a trap? We have not been friends for a long time, your Majesty.”

“I will lay it all out plainly for you,” He replied, “We will have no secrets.”

Derek moved around the perimeter and caught a scent. Someone was lurking in the bushes! It was a trap! Derek moved quickly and silently, always he found grace when he needed it most but brute strength was still his most powerful weapon.

“If you are being plain with me,” Talia spoke up, “Then who is this hiding in the bushes like a little bird?”

Derek grabbed the young man by the back of his jerkin and threw him bodily into the clearing. He let out a howl of shock and horror and rolled several times before landing by Talia’s feet. Her claws came out and rested on his neck. The young man made a gasping sound as if she’d already torn through him, his breath catching and coming out in a wheeze as though his lungs were damaged.

“Don’t hurt him, please,” The king held up his hands, “He’s my son.”

“You lie. He shares none of your scent save what has rubbed off on him.”

“Not by blood,” King Stilinski replied quickly, “He grew up with my son. The child of his wetnurse. He shared my wife’s milk with my son! Please! He’s all I have left of my family!”

“Your majesty,” The young man wheezed, giving the king a broken look.

“He needs his medicine,” King Stilinski insisted, “He isn’t well.”

“He should have been _ours_ ,” Talia replied, “Then he would not have to suffer.”

“Then take me,” The young man whispered, “Take me. I was s-supposed to be yours anyway. Give me a skin. I’ll save Stiles myself. I’m done being h-helpless. He’s my brother. _My p-pack.”_

Talia turned her head away from King Stilinski and the two guards, alarming Derek as he quickly turned his attention to the enemies that she had lowered her guard before. Talia met the unwell youth’s eyes and studied him in silence for a time.

“How was he taken?” Talia asked.

The wheezing worsened and Talia removed her claws and instructed him to take his medicine. The young man pulled out a small sack and removed a small faggot. He lit it, pressed it into the ground with the burnt end up, and knelt over it, cupping his face so that he could breathe it in easily. When he straightened up again he was breathing slowly, but clearly. His pupils were dilated. He swayed slightly.

Talia’s hand stroked through his wavy hair, “Tell me, sickened one. How was your packmate taken?”

“We were playing a game- well, our pack was, I can’t play much- and he got disoriented. He thought we were in the woods. I heard a strangers voice come from there, but the others were further away. They didn’t hear it. I tried to shout out, but… He was gone. I got onto a horse to chase him, but I fainted before I got far. Lydia- she’s one of our packmates- she had to give me my medicine and take me home. Jackson and Allison,” Here the youth indicated the young guards, “They tried to track him but they lost the trail. Please. King Stilinski says that your people can track someone for days. It’s been two already. Can you find him? Please? I’ll join your pack. Anything to save him.”

“You should have been mine,” Talia soothed, stroking his hair again, “You would not have had to poison your body with those herbs.”

“I wouldn’t have had Stiles, either,” He replied.

“What’s your name, young one?”

“Scott. Scott McCall.”

“Then you are ready to give him up now? Do you love him?”

“Yes and yes, but not that kind of love,” Scott replied, “I’d rather know he was safe and never see him again than worry about what they’re d-doing to him. Please. He’s… He’s one of the blessed.”

“Scott!” King Stilinski hissed in alarm.

“If they find out they’ll never let him go,” Scott pleaded.

The blessed. Derek had heard of them but never met one before. They were young men who were capable of The Woman’s Blessing. Men who could birth children! Derek wondered how he’d smell, like a man or a woman? Would he have a pussy? Or would his ass somehow route to a womb? Derek was curious but this _still_ was not their problem. It was a human problem, and the humans had abandoned them!

“I will take this one,” She stated, “But instead of further sacrifices I wish for our people to merge with yours.”

“Merge with…?” King Stilinski stammered.

“Our kind is dying out. Without sacrifices we cannot find mates who do not share blood. We would walk among you as equals. Then perhaps you will not have to lose your… second son.”

Stilinski stood still for a moment, eyes tortured, “How would we find peace? My people would fear you.”

“We will walk amongst them in our flesh rather than our fur. By night we will walk the streets. You will make wolves a protected species and credit a wolf with saving your son. To kill us will be illegal. We will police ourselves.”

Stilinski nodded, “Yes, of course. Anything for my son.”

Talia lifted her hand from Scott’s head and motioned to Derek. He stalked forward, four feet tall at the shoulders and black as night. Scott’s breath stuttered to a halt in his lungs, but this time it wasn’t due to his condition. It was due to blind terror.

“Come now, Derek,” Talia scolded, “Don’t scare the poor thing.”

Derek transformed, pulling the black pelt around himself. His shoulder and one thigh were bared but he kept his privates covered as his mother had taught him long ago that humans were ashamed of their softer parts. Scott didn’t seem less frightened but he did take in a breath and wrap both hands around Talia ‘s fingers like a babe clinging to his mum.

“We must turn him before our travels,” Talia stated, “Or he will not survive. I trust you understand that?”

“Of course, just… may I say goodbye?” King Stalinski asked.

Talia nodded and Scott stood up slowly, brushed off his knees, and stepped forward to kneel before King Stilinski only to be pulled into his arms in a tight hug.

“You come back, you hear? Come back safely or your mother will have my head, charges of regicide won’t stop that woman where you’re concerned.”

“I will,” Scott promised, “Father.”

“Don’t call me father,” He replied, shoving at him gently but softening his words with a soft smile, “People will talk.”

Scott smiled warmly and then stepped back slowly before turning and heading for Derek with a nervous twist to his lips. Derek turned to lead him back towards the woods, heading into the bracken as several wolves stepped closer to take his place as guard. Isaac was watching them carefully with bright eyes focused on Talia to protect her. As Derek passed he didn’t stir but he did give Scott’s nervous footfalls a sniff so Derek growled at him until he refocused on Derek’s mother. Her safety was far too important to be left to wayward teens, but she was adamant that the young take up position now that his uncle had gone mad and his sister was off on a journey to find herself a mate. Perhaps Derek could find her now and tell her to come join them in Ireland again where werewolves were seen as benevolent rather than berserkers out for blood.


	3. Chapter 3

“You’ll like Stiles,” Scott babbled as they walked through the woods, “Well, no. You won’t like him. Nobody does, really, but eventually his own brand of annoying and brilliant just becomes comfortable and you stop wanting to strangle him.”

Derek glared up at Scott. He was riding on Alpha Talia’s back as if she were a horse and Derek wanted to filet him for that alone, let alone his irritating description of a young man they had yet to even start looking for. Talia sat down abruptly and he toppled off, much to the amusement of the surrounding pack. Scott scrambled up to his feet but Talia pushed him down again with a big paw and pinned him there.

Derek slipped into the den and returned with an old grey wolf, a natural born one rather than a _faoladh_ , who limped along with a weakened gait. Derek occasionally caught her with his muzzle before she could fall sideways in her weakened state. Finally she lay down beside Scott with a heavy sigh.

Talia threw her head back then, howling out the song of the she-wolf at her feet. She was old and Derek bowed his head to listen to her story. As a cub she’d been born to a young mother with two other male cubs. They’d grown up playing together but one had died as an adolescent when he’d inadvertently stepped into another wolf’s territory while playing. When she reached a year she’d been courted and had her first litter. There had been only one and she’d been ashamed, but her mate had been _proud_ and had assured her that one would be easy to care for. He’d grow up strong. He had, and he’d done her proud by starting his own pack. He’d cared for her often outside of her seasons and she’d run with both packs for a time, an uncommon occurrence. She’d birthed several more litters before her mate had died and she’d been proud of each one. She had been rare, never having to suffer the loss of a cub. After her mate’s death she slipped down to an omega of her first son’s pack and spent her time advising him. Now she was here. Long after her son had attained enough power to dance in the stars, she had lived on. She wished to join him so she was offering up her pelt.

Talia removed her paw from Scott’s chest and lowered her head, letting a single tear drop onto human and wolf. Scott’s eyes were wide.

“Oh no,” He whispered, “Please don’t cry! Can… can I pet you, or…?”

Scott’s hand reached out but Talia ignored him. It was time. Derek watched carefully. If something ever happened to his sister he would need to know how to perform this ritual so his pack could continue. The howl that had reduced to a soft croon vanished into silence at the soft whimper of the she-wolf’s offer. Then Talia’s teeth flashed in the moonlight and Scott screamed in agony while the she-wolf descended into the final silence. No more would her heart trouble her, for it no longer beat. Talia stepped back and surveyed her work. Both she-wolf and Scott were bleeding and Scott looked frightened. Talia transformed into her human form and held out a hand. Derek placed the knife in it and Talia held it out for Scott.

“Do you know how to skin an animal?”

“I…”

“Do so now,” She whispered.

“But the wolf…” Scott gave her a worried look.

“Her pain is ended. She gives you her pelt. Take it with gratitude and leave your humanity behind.”

Scott sat up slowly, wincing at the pain in his side and turned to make the first awkward cut. Talia steadied his hand but only for guidance. This was Scott’s task and he moved down her body while weeping openly. It was a moment before Derek realized that the wound was already healing. Scott was not crying due to pain but _for the she-wolf_. But how? He couldn’t have understood the song. He didn’t _know_ her. He had no idea who she was or that her cubs were nearby, grown and starting their own families. Yet he wept for the wolf he skinned and from what Derek could tell it wasn’t in revulsion. He wept for the loss of life, sorrow pouring off of him as if he skinned his own mother instead of a wolf whose pelt he would inherit.

“I’m sorry,” Scott choked, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I’m so sorry.”

Their blood flowed together as Scott absorbed her life force and Talia’s power. When the pelt fell off of her emaciated frame and into his arms Talia nodded proudly at his efforts.

“Very good. Now. Put it on. Press the face over your own, the limbs over yours. It doesn’t matter if it doesn’t line up perfectly. The pelt will grow to you.”

“B-but it’s covered in _blood_ ,” Scott whimpered.

“Her blood, who will become one with yours. Now, Scott, or suffer for your hesitance.”

Scott hurried to wrap it over himself and pull the limbs into place over his thighs, arms, and finally his face. One foreleg fell off of his arm and he hurried to correct it. There was a long pause as silence fell and even the insects respectfully remained silent.

“Now wha-?” Scott’s question was cut off as he screamed in pain.

Derek took an involuntary step back as Scott’s bones snapped, his muscles tore, and his voice broke with the effort of crying out his agony. His arms lengthened, his legs shrunk, his ass merged until before them cowered a frightened, injured, grey werewolf with wide, golden eyes. Scott whimpered and shifted, his pain clearly overwhelming his ability to use his senses… or perhaps his new senses were overwhelming his ability to think. Either way it was nearly an hour before he could stand upright, but once his feet were beneath him he let out a soft sound of understanding. His ears perked up and Derek gave him a lupine smile as he gave a little jump to test his limbs. He took in a deep breath through his nose, filling lung that worked fully for the first time in his life, through his head back and… let out the most pathetic and repulsive howl Derek had ever heard. He rolled his eyes and huffs of laughter filled the woods. Scott hopped again and the group threw their head back to howl and welcome their new packmember. Derek felt the surge of power added to his mother as a rush of excitement in himself.

They were running then, their feet barely touching the ground. Derek’s mother nodded to him and he veered off to follow the trail they’d been told to led to the sight they’d lost Stiles at. Scott didn’t know how to track yet so Derek led them, guiding him and teaching him a few techniques when time spared. Derek didn’t know how to turn back yet, but Derek wasn’t concerned. He’d been human for long enough, now it was time to be _faoladh_.

Their search led them into a town that Derek was all too familiar with and fear crawled up his spine. He was now certain that they’d meant to make the path only capable of being located by scent, and they’d certainly gone out of their way to lead them where no other humans would tread. Stiles was in more danger than they’d ever imagined.


	4. Chapter 4

Stiles hated everyone. They were all cranky and had a nasty habit of hitting him. So far he’d kept his bleeding secret from them, but it wasn’t easy. Thankfully he had plenty of straw in his cell and plenty of wounds to blame the bloody straw on. He managed to keep his pants clean enough but his underthings were absolutely destroyed. Stiles was resourceful and managed to play a few of them against each other, but once he had they beat him even more soundly than before. Stiles cherished every cut because it helped him hide more of his menses blood from them. The head wound, which wasn’t the least bit awful at all, he made a particular fuss about and that seemed to convince them that the blood was from there. They finally cleaned out his hellish stall and Stiles was left with fresh straw. None too soon, because he wasn’t going to be able to keep his homemade sanitary napkins sanitary for much longer.

Stiles was asleep when they arrived, but the sound of the guard hitting the floor startled him awake. Stiles struggled up and stared in shock as a gigantic grey wolf chewing at them wrenched the door’s bottom pins out. The top ones were pulled free by- _hello!-_ a naked man with more muscles than anyone was properly entitled to. He had a wolf skin draped over his shoulders and Stiles’ eyes lit up in excitement.

“Oh my gods,” Stiles gasped, struggling to his feet and heading for the door as the large man wrenched it free and placed it against the far wall.

“Stiles Stilinski?” The _faoladh_ asked.

“Yes, oh perfect and gorgeous delusion brought on by head injury?”

“Good. You’d think your own damn milk brother would know your scent,” He stated, giving the wolf beside him a glare, “You’re never taking point again.”

The large gray wolf whined in shame and Stiles met his eyes in shock, “Scott? Is that you, buddy?”

The grey wolf moved in, sniffing at Stiles in concern and nuzzling against his side. His tail wagged excitedly and Stiles wrapped his arms around his huge neck and buried his face in soft fur.

“I’m just banged up,” Stiles told him, “They didn’t want to kill me so they were just… you know… moderately horrible. They didn’t find out my secret, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Get on his back,” The other _faoladh_ instructed.

“Wait, we haven’t been properly intro-“ Stiles’ statement was interrupted by Derek lifting him onto the back of the grey wolf ( _Scott?!)_ and turning towards the doorway.

There was a flash of perfect bare ass and a striking tattoo and then the wolf pelt was pulled to and a huge black wolf was leading them. Stiles barely suppressed a whoop of excitement and then Scott was off, following the lead of the massive black wolf while Stiles barely held on, head low as they flew through the corridors. The building they were in appeared to be a prison but the black werewolf knew his way out and flew up to a outdoor walk that overlooked a river. Stiles swore to himself as a flood of guards appeared at one end and the single blonde woman who had abducted him at the other. Stiles glanced back and forth while Scott whined.

“Um…” Stiles started, directing his words to the black wolf, “I know this might sound insane, but I highly suggest you go for the guards. She may only be one, but that is one crazy lady.”

The wolf made a huffing sound that Stiles thought might have been agreement and then… jumped off the ledge. Stiles screamed as Scott followed, but he wasn’t as swift as the larger wolf and didn’t clear the mote. Stiles barely held his breath in time before the water covered over his head. For a moment everything was muffled and then they broke the surface and a loud howl filled his ears. Stiles realized as Scott paddled towards shore that the black wolf was _drawing their fire_. Arrows rained down on the source of the howl and Stiles shouted in concern only to get a mouthful of water. It wasn’t even particularly _clean_ water, although they seemed to be upriver of the sewage drainage. “Don’t kill the prince! We need him alive!”

“Oh, but he’ll look so _nice_ on a pike!” A woman’s voice cackled from above.

Stiles turned to look back in time to see her vault the wall as well, landing in he moat and heading for them with surprising speed for a woman swimming in leather armor.

“Scott! The scary one is coming!” Stiles shouted.

Scott got to the shore and ran at top speed while horses thundered across the drawbridge, voices shouting to stop their progress while Stiles’ heartbeat pounded in his chest. The black wolf let Scott pass him and took up their flank, weaving in and out while horsemen surged towards them. Stiles heard a horse scream in pain and winced, knowing the wolf was likely taking out the horse to stop the rider. One of them got closer and Stiles cowered in fear as a mace was raised above their heads.

“Scott!” Stiles shouted, pulling at his fur to guide him as if he were a horse.

Scott obeyed and the mace missed him, but it was a near thing. Stiles watched in horror as the black wolf came up from behind and took out the human, ripping him from the horse and throwing him nearly twelve feet. Scott had to jump over the man’s limp body. The horse veered to the other side and Stiles lay flat on Scott’s back as the sounds of pursuit became more faint. The woods soon muffled more of their sound and then the wolves veered sharply to the left and Stiles fell into a bit of a daze as the loping rocked him into a sense of security after nearly a week of fear and anxiety. When they finally stopped, sides heaving as the miles covered left even the powerful beasts exhausted, Stiles simply slid off and onto the ground.

“My ass is numb,” Stiles groaned, “And my crotch hurts.”

“You have to rip it off with your claws. Use your hind claws to make a tear and then pull with your front paws. It will come off in one piece. Trust the magic. Belief is everything.”

Stiles rolled over to see what the hell the stranger was talking about and stared in horror as the grey wolf ripped his own fur off. A lupine shriek of pain echoed through the woods and quickly dissolved into human sobs. Then Scott was kneeling there, a wolf pelt draped over his torso and hanging over one shoulder.

“It gets easier with time,” The black wolf stated.

“Who _are_ you?” Stiles asked, staring up at him in amazement.

He gave Stiles a curious glance, looking him over where he lay in the grass before answering.

“Derek Hale, prince of the werewolves.”

“What are werewolves?” Stiles asked.

“Our word for _faoladh,”_ Derek replied, “We are one with the wolves.”

“I’ll say!” Stiles breathed, “You were _amazing_.”

Derek snorted and headed towards the woods, sniffing the air, “We’ll camp here. Scott, get wood for a fire.”

“Just… give… me… a… second,” Scott panted.

“Your asthma?” Stiles worried.

“Gone,” Scott grinned at Stiles, “Just… tired.”

“Useless,” Derek huffed, and headed into the woods himself, picking up fallen sticks as he went, “Try not to let the prince die!”

Stiles, of course, followed Derek… to collect items for his sanitary pad, of course, and not at _all_ to get another glimpse of his sculpted ass or chiseled abs. Stiles collected what he could feel with his hands in the dark, wishing for a candle. Leaves wouldn’t do him any good, but if he groped around the base of a tree he could find some moss.

“That’s terrible tinder,” Derek grouched.

“Um… I’m collecting samples,” Stiles lied, “I use them to make tea.”

“Then it’s a good thing I caught you since that particular breed is toxic.”

Stiles dropped it and paused, “Can you help me find-“

“You need something to absorb your menses, yes?”

Stiles backed up, fear making his heart pound.

“It’s fine. Your packmate told me what you are and I smelled the richer menses blood when we found you. I’ll find you some dried lichen. Go back to the camp with Scott.”

“Yeah, but he’s naked,” Stiles argued pointedly.

“So am I,” Derek reminded him.

“Yeah, but I _enjoy_ seeing you naked,” Stiles replied.

Derek huffed, “Go wait with Scott.”

“Sure. Okay. Which way is Scott?” Stiles wondered.

Derek rolled his eyes angrily and pointed towards the little pine grove he’d chosen as their campsite. Stiles waved at him and headed back to Scott with a swing of his hips clearly meant to catch Derek’s attention. Derek ignored him, heading off to find what they both needed. When he returned Stiles was curled up against Scott, shivering in the late morning cold. Derek knelt and quickly started a fire by rubbing two sticks together.

“You made that look _easy_ ,” Scott breathed.

“You can _see?”_ Stiles asked.

“I can basically everything,” Scott replied smugly.

“Speaking of which,” Derek stated, “We should split up.”

“What?” Scott asked, tightening his arm around Stiles who was edging away to get nearer the fire.

“They have amazing trackers,” Derek stated, “They’re going to find us within a matter of hours.”

“So we’re lighting a fire, why?” Scott asked.

“Because Stiles can’t keep going at the rate we can, and frankly I’m injured. Which is why you, as quite possibly the most pathetic wolf I’ve ever seen-“

“Hey, I’ve been a wolf for like, less than a day!”

“Are going to lead them away from us. Try to survive.”

“There has to be another way,” Stiles argued weakly, “Scott doesn’t stand a chance!”

“There isn’t,” Derek replied.

“You’ll heal, right?” Scott asked, giving Derek a worried look and narrowing in on the arm Derek was keeping tucked away.

“Get some rest for now,” Derek ordered.


	5. Chapter 5

****

Despite the concerns looming over them, Stiles fell asleep almost immediately after relieving himself and drinking some water from a stream Derek led him to. Derek didn’t sleep. He was in agonizing pain from an arrow that had pierced his forearm. It had to have been tipped in poison because it was torturing him. He tried digging it out while the two slept but the tip was lodged in the bone. Derek was getting dizzy from the pain and just starting to wonder if cutting off his arm were an option when something blocked his vision and lips sealed over his wound. Suction made his eyes cross and teeth clench with pain and then a hiss met his ears. The arrow head dropped to the ground and Stiles leaned aside and spit into the fire. He’d pried it out with his _teeth!_

“The fuck are you doing?” Derek growled.

Stiles was sitting up holding a stick into the fire and wiping off his mouth on his sleeve.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t swallow. I rinsed my mouth after,” Stiles held up the bowl of water he’d been sipping earlier.

“What are you?”

“Hold still,” Stiles turned to him, “Wolfsbane his to be burnt out and you need the specific type to do it. The easiest way to do that is suck it out, spit it on a stick, burn the stick, and stick it in the wound. It sucks, but it has to happen. C’mere.”

Derek let the skinny human lean over him and clenched his jaw as the searing pain shot up his arm and made his vision white out. Then it was done and Derek watched in surprise as the wound slowly closed.

“You just…”

“Saved your life? We’ll call it even. Look, I’m worried about Scott. He’s never been alone. Ever.”

“He’ll deal. He’s not exactly human anymore.”

“Yeah, but admit it. He’s a puppy.”

Derek couldn’t deny that but he also wasn’t about to point out their very _few_ options. Hopefully his mother would arrive soon with reinforcements. His howl only told her were he’d _been_ , but he’d howl again if needed. Just as soon as he knew they were safe from immediate ambush. He knew the fire was a risk, but the prince dying of hypothermia before they got to safety was another. Derek tugged the sprite closer and he settled in again, relaxing against Derek and accepting the pelt around his shoulder the same way he’d snuggled in with his packmate. Derek continued to listen and smell the air until he decided that they couldn’t wait any longer. They’d already lingered nearly two hours.

“Up,” Derek ordered, “Scott, go north and make a mess of things. Tread heavily. Put something on your back to make it seem you carry the prince. A dead deer should do the trick.”

Scott nodded, “Where do I get a dead deer from?”

Derek paused in hauling the tired Stiles to his feet and slapped Scott upside the head, “Kill one, dumbass!”

“Oh. Right. With my razor sharp claws and teeth. Yeah. Blood isn’t…too gross.”

“And don’t scream when you transform this time. You’ll lead them right to us.”

Derek gave him as scathing a look as he could spare and hauled Stiles up over his shoulder.

“Whoa! Hey, nice view!” Stiles chirped from where he dangled by Derek’s ass.

“Shut up,” Derek scolded, “They’ll be looking for wolf tracks. They know I rarely move in human form.”

“Right, I’ll stay as a wolf. With a deer,” Scott replied easily.

“Hurry.”

“Going!” Scott pulled his pelt up, took a few deep breaths, and bit his tongue in an attempt to stay silent as he transformed.

Once he was on all fours, a few pained whines escaped before he bolted off towards the… south.

“North, dumbass!” Derek hissed, “That way!”

Scott turned around and course corrected with his tail between his legs. Derek shook his head in disgust and hoped the pup survived before moving towards the west. It was an hour of carefully tiptoeing through underbrush in an attempt not to leave a trail before he felt he was far enough from their obvious campsite to switch over. Stiles looked a bit sickly when he lowered him, despite the fact he hadn’t kept him upside down the whole time. Derek helped steady him and Stiles gave him a wide-eyed stare.

“You okay?” Derek asked.

“I can see your _soul_ ,” Stiles whispered.

“What?” Derek asked in alarm.

“It’s blue like your eyes.”

“Right,” Derek huffed.

“Blue means death of innocence,” Stiles whispered so softly that Derek almost didn’t hear him, but when he digested the words a chill went up his spine.

“Who told you that?” Derek asked, gripping his shoulders hard enough to hurt.

Stiles didn’t even _flinch_ , “The wind.”

“The wind,” Derek replied flatly. It was entirely possible the brat was sick or injured.

“The wind says they’re coming,” Stiles promised him, gripping the edge of his pelt and clutching it tightly as he stared up with wide eyes.

Derek turned his head and sniffed the wind and the scent of horse reached him, faint but real.

“Shit,” Derek swore, and pulled Stiles quickly back up in his arms, carrying him bridal style, “The wind tell you anything else?”

“The brown will hide you better than the green,” Stiles told him.

“They find us and you’re going to brown your pants,” Derek grumbled.

He took off at a faster pace, realizing then that running might be his only option. He just wasn’t sure how many days and nights he could last, let alone Stiles. He was just considering transforming again when a poorly placed step left him ankle deep in mud. Derek paused, staring down at the mud and then following his eyes further until he saw… _a sinkhole!_

It was barely visible. It looked like mud but it was actually extremely brown water with a helluva lot of debris mixed in. Trees around it had sunk down and the whole thing looked like a death trap. Only the rush of water beneath the surface told him it was present. If he’d run straight into it the muddy water it would have swallowed him right up. As it was it looked mostly settled, but that could be deceptive. Sinkholes could swallow entire buildings, let alone a werewolf and a human.

“Behold, the brown,” Stiles whispered, waving his arms uselessly.

Derek caught the scent of wolfsbane in the air and that settled it. He still felt weak from the last so he knew he’d never survive another poisoning. The bastards were silently surrounding them and his quarry was as sickly as he was. Derek stepped back a few steps and then ran for the hole, jumped, and dropped straight down into the center. Mud covered over them and Derek flailed a moment. Stiles pushed away from him and he frantically slow motion swam after the insane sprite. A gust of cold let him know he’d broken the surface and Derek brushed the debris off of his face to look around himself. There was no light. Not even his werewolf eyes could see, but Derek could hear. Stiles was flailing to the surface, scratching at his face, and then sinking down again.

“Derek?” Stiles whispered, “I can’t… stay…”

Derek grabbed Stiles’ floundering hands and blindly searched above them for a rock, root, _anything_. When he found a thick root he guided both their hands there, covering Stiles’ with his own. It would at least keep them from sinking into the slowly churning soup.

“What the hell is this? Where are we?” Stiles gasped.

“Welcome back to the land of the sane, spirit walker,” Derek huffed, “You should take care when ingesting wolfsbane. It makes humans see visions, though it’s less toxic to you than I.”

“Where? Are? We?” Stiles demanded, and he heard a bit of the prince in his voice for the first time.

“Underground. An air pocket. I have no idea how much air we’ll have but we should conserve it.”

Stiles didn’t reply so Derek just listened to his heartbeat and what little he could hear of the muffled world outside of their pit. He unashamedly held the brat’s hand tightly. He heard the horses slow and stop and then the slow approach of a rider. He was certain the scent of the oil she rubbed into her skin was in his imagination, but then her perfume was burned into his mind… quite literally.

“Who is-“

“Shh!” Derek hushed quickly.

There was a moment of chatter above them, mostly about where they could have gone, and then _she_ spoke. Deceptively calm despite the fury he could hear as she told them she’d lost the trail and they would have to backtrack. Derek kept them there until the air grew thin and Stiles complained he was getting dizzy. Then he dragged them out into the cold night.

They emerged coated in muck and drenched to the bone. Derek immediately transformed and began to shake himself violently to get the funk out of his fur to the point it wouldn’t drip and leave a trail. Stiles put up his arms to fend off the assault and then dodged around a tree well away from the sinkhole. Derek kept it up until no more droplets fell off of him. He didn’t even want to know how fluffed up he looked. He gave himself a few quick licks to secure parts of his fur that were especially irritating and then looked around for the prince. For a moment he didn’t see him and envisioned _her_ coming around the tree with a knife to his throat, but then the prince stepped out…

Naked.

He wore only his shoes and the mud he was carefully scraping from his skin with a wedge of bark.

“Better,” Stiles whispered, “The clothes were soaked and frankly, this will help us move faster.”

Derek glanced down at his privates. They looked male to him, but then again the lad had been on his menses so that couldn’t be right. Stiles covered himself over for a moment and blushed in the moonlight. Thankfully he misinterpreted Derek’s lupine stare.

“Uh. The underwear were already trashed and my cycle stopped, so we don’t have to worry about me dripping blood. I figured if they sent hounds after us and I stank of stale blood it would be a huge lead. Can you help me bury the clothes?”

Derek nodded and came around the tree. The clothes _were_ the primary stink of blood, as well as unwashed and unsanitary human. Stiles was right. Discarding them was the wisest move. They probably weren’t even healthy to wear anymore. Stiles was shivering in the cold but the temperature wasn’t dangerous for humans. He would warm up by clinging to Derek in his wolf form or walking. Derek dug a hole and Stiles shifted the clothes in, moved the soil over it, and then nodded that he was ready to go. His stomach growled loudly as he followed but they both knew that food wasn’t an option with pursuit so close behind. Without him having to so much as indicate to Stiles, the human gripped his fur and mounted him as if he were riding a horse bareback. Derek was hesitantly impressed with his movements considering the brat had shown rather often how clumsy he could be on two feet. Derek took them off at top speed, but a wolf quickly crossed their path and Derek skidded to a halt, nearly dismounting Stiles who kept his seat through skill alone alone.

“Easy,” Stiles breathed, and Derek gave him a glare to remind him he was _not_ a horse.

“Sorry. Habit,” Stiles winced.

The wolf approached and Derek was relieved to see and smell Erica. They greeted each other, feet dancing happily while Stiles gripped his fur tightly. The tan wolf was pure muscle and long fur. She was truly beautiful and Derek was proud of his packmate. Erica had been the last sacrifice the Stilinski’s had given them but there had been no attraction between she and Derek. It only added to Derek’s fear that even with a score of mates available to him he might not be able to breed them… not when only the male form had drawn his eye thus far.

 _Greetings, prince,_ Erica communicated, _The alpha is headed east. She will cut them off and take down as many as possible. You are charged to travel as quickly and safely as you can to the Stilinski castle and present the prince to his father._

 _Scott is out there,_ Derek confessed, _I had to part ways to keep the prince safe._

_The pup has already met up with your lady mother. He’s tailing Isaac._

Something about the way she said that had Derek narrowing his eyes, but he didn’t let it bother him while a mission was on. Isaac could handle himself. Derek turned towards their lands and took off at top speed, determined to make it to the Stilinski home as quickly as possible. He planned to go through their territory to get there in order to prolong the safety of the prince. He ran for three hours straight at his top speed before the scent changed dramatically and he lopped to a halt.

“What is it?” Stiles asked, “Did they catch up? Head us off?”

Stiles moved with him so easily that Derek had forgotten the whelp couldn’t understand his language. Derek shrugged to tell him to dismount and Stiles climbed down, hands instinctively covering his crotch before he pushed his shame aside, squared his shoulders, and looked around himself.

“Where are we?”

Derek pointed his nose towards the Stilinski lands and huffed and Stiles turned towards the area and squinted, holding a hand up to block the newly risen sun, “Ohhh, the mountains! We’re almost home!”

Stiles stomach must have twinged because he hissed and rubbed at his belly. Derek knew he hadn’t eaten for days at least, if not the full week he was gone. Derek whined and sniffed the air before taking off towards a possible kill. That one got away, but the next wasn’t so lucky. He dragged the deer back to the young man who had started walking towards his home without hesitation. His eyes were glazed and at the sight of the deer he swayed slightly.

“I’m so fucking hungry,” Stiles told him.

Derek dropped the deer and dug a bit in the ground to start a pit, then darted away to collect wood and tinder. He dropped each into the pit and Stiles knelt to arrange it in the best way to start a proper fire. Stiles tried to light it with the twisting motion that Derek had done before but all he got was a handful of splinters. Derek huffed a laugh at him and raked his nails across a stick hard enough to create friction. Another few swipes and the stick laid with tinder was burning softly. Derek huffed a slow breath onto it and raked more tinder onto it before carefully laying it into the mass. The fire started quickly after that and Stiles crowed happily before staring at the deer uselessly.

“See… this is why I tell my dad that princes need to know survival stuff, too.”

Derek laughed at Stiles who gave him a wry grin, “Oh my gosh, _faoladh_ can laugh! Do you know you guys are like, my favorite fairy tale?”

Derek picked up the deer and tore the fur from it in chunks, filleting the flesh easily with his claws before ripping off a sizable steak. Derek grasped a stick in his teeth and spearing it through the bloody flesh and held it into the fire. Stiles shook his head and held out his hand.

“Let me hold it.”

Derek huffed. It was heavy. He’d just end up dropping it. Derek ignored him and kept rotating the meat until it was hot and just barely cooked. The bit of blood inside would do him good. Derek passed him the steak and Stiles blew on it before tearing in with a depraved moan.

“Oh my gods, yesh,” Stiles groaned around a mouthful of venison.

Derek laughed at Stiles again and headed for the remains of the deer, ripping into it with fervor. It was a few minutes in before he remembered that humans found such activities offensive. He paused and looked over at Stiles, blood dripping from his maw from his enjoyment of a still-warm liver. Stiles was patiently eating, licking the dripping fat from his fingers as he worked his way through the steak. He glanced up at Derek’s pause and gave him a soft smile.

“I love venison,” Stiles told him happily, “This is like the best meal ever right now. I mean, I know part of it is because I’ve been on bread and water for ages, but still. Soooo good!”

Derek gave him a lupine smile and went back after his portion of the deer. He happily ripped it open and then took himself over to the grassy a bit away from their campsite to have a nice roll. Every turn in the grass pulled more of the dirt from his fur. A happy laugh drew his attention and Stiles threw himself down into the grass and began to roll around as well.

“Smells so good!” Stiles laughed, rolling again and rubbing his back along the sweet grass, “And it’s getting all the dust off of me.”

Derek yipped in agreement and rolled some more until he finally felt clean again. He still had to lick at a few patches that were stubborn but overall his stretching and rolling had gotten the worst of it out from his undercoat. Stiles moved closer and leaned against Derek’s fur, burying his face in it and breathing in.

“Now you smell good, too,” Stiles sighed, “This is okay, right? This is what your kind do?”

Derek panted happily, using a paw to pull the human closer and cleaning his hair with his tongue while Stiles chuckled and leaned into him. Feeling emboldened by the unusually unreserved human, he leaned down and licked at his shoulders where his rolling hadn’t removed the mud from his body. Stiles turned about when nudged and Derek’s tail wagged as he enjoyed cleaning the little prince.

“I’m so tired. Can we stay here? I mean, it’s not safe to walk by day anyway, right? And your entire body totally chilled out a minute ago so it’s pretty obvious we’re in your territory. So we can sleep for a bit?”

Derek stood up and led the human a few feet away while he whined that he was just too tired to walk further. Derek gave him a glare to remind him that _he’d_ done virtually all the walking and running, but Stiles just rolled his eyes in amusement. Derek found a downed tree and dug around it a bit, kicking leaves into place and then patting it down to make sure most of them were dry. He nodded towards it and Stiles let out a sigh of relief and sank into them, nuzzling up under the tree where he’d be nice and hidden. Derek lay down in front of him, dropping a mouthful of leaves onto his torso to camouflage himself. Stiles nuzzled into the fur at his back and let out a sigh of relief.

“I could sleep for days,” Stiles whispered, words slurred, and dropped into slumber.

Derek followed him shortly after, only mildly concerned that ‘days’ of sleep was a likely event.


	6. Chapter 6

Derek awoke slowly, the feel of someone stroking fingers though his fur giving him deep comfort. His immediate thought was that it was his mother, but the scent was warm and spicy rather than soft and reminiscent of dried flowers. Derek turned his head and snuffled along the scent, finding it familiar but not being able to place it. As he moved closer to consciousness the humanoid body beside him snuggled in closer and Derek’s mind finally placed why his ‘packmate’ was in that form. Derek opened his eyes and lifted his head, staring down at where Stiles was drowsily snuggling into him.

“Mm?” Stiles asked as Derek sniffed along his torso curiously.

Stiles shifted onto his back and then full body stretched, his morning erection bobbing against his belly. Derek sniffed down lower; hoping he could get away with inspecting him before Stiles completely woke up. Stiles bent his knees, clenching them tightly together.

“Um… not like… not like that, okay? Could you sort of… turn back? I mean, I think you’re _amazing_ like this, but… I won’t show you _that_ until you shift back.”

Derek paused and then pulled his pelt back to kneel over Stiles in his human form. Stiles hesitated, cheeks blushing bright red in the full moon’s light as he slowly separated his knees to show the V of his thighs. Derek leaned to one side, frowning as he tried to see what made Stiles ‘blessed’. He couldn’t see anything, but he could _smell_ it and the scent of musk and desire made his nose twitch. He took in a deep breath and Stiles shifted a bit, spreading his legs further and reaching down to pull his thighs and plump cheeks further apart. Derek could tell where the scent was emanating from now, but he couldn’t see it due to the placement of Stiles’ testicles.

“It’s okay,” Stiles spoke up, “You can. I… I trust you. I want you to.”

Derek wondered if anyone had _ever_ touched or looked at Stiles in this way. Perhaps a doctor? Certainly his mother, but it was clear that an intimate partner was nonexistent despite Scott’s knowledge of Stiles’ body. Derek reached down with careful fingers and lifted Stiles’ balls to reveal a small slit with two plump folds where his taint would be. It was darker flesh, hairless, and just beginning to dampen from his ardor. Derek licked his lips and Stiles’ breath caught in his throat. It was then that Derek realized what was _really_ being offered. Not just a chance to sate his curiosity, but Stiles’ body in full. Derek licked his lips again and glanced up at Stiles’ face to make sure he was certain. His whiskey eyes were dark with lust and his lips were parted as his breath became shaky. Derek’s cock twitched as desire filled his length out and a slow realization sank in.

_Mate._

Stiles was his. Not just a funny little prince who Derek found amusing and who had a surprising understanding of _faoladh_ body language. He was meant to be Derek’s _one_ , and some part of Stiles must have known that for him to surrender his body in such a way. Derek leaned down and nuzzled along Stiles’ jaw until he reached his ear and then mouthed the lobe gently while the human arched and gasped. Derek cupped the soft flesh of the inside of his thigh as he teased him, slowly moving one finger over to stroke the part in his flesh. A sudden gush of slick met his digit; Stiles was frantic with lust, eager for Derek to mount him.

Derek sat up and lifted his finger to his face, licking the tip and testing the scent on his tongue. Stiles’ timing was nearly perfect. He was ready to mate, his body eagerly in the first stages of ovulation. Fertilization wasn’t guaranteed, but it was fairly likely should Derek’s seed be strong enough to survive the day’s wait for an egg. Stiles was blushing.

“Am I… I washed a bit. While you were sleeping.”

Derek rolled his eyes, “Don’t leave without waking me again. Just because we’re in my territory doesn’t mean you’re completely safe.”

Stiles pouted, “I tried! You were out cold and just whined like a puppy and kicked your legs.”

Derek narrowed his eyes and contemplated bopping him on the head, but he didn’t want to ruin the mood.

“You smell perfect,” Derek replied to answer his question, and then shifted down to kneel between Stiles’ legs.

The wide-eyed, vulnerable look was back and it went straight to Derek’s twitching member. He had to make sure the young one was ready to take him, so he leaned down and nuzzled beneath his balls to lap at that little slit. Stiles gasped, his entire body jumping as his sensitive body was touched for the first time. His soft moans and cut-off cries were music to Derek’s ears. He wanted Stiles to be _louder_. He wanted the beautiful blessed man to scream for him. Derek turned his head to nip his thigh and then growled hungrily when he got a startled yelp for his troubles. He buried his nose in Stiles’ balls and plunged his tongue into his heat while the human cried out in shock at the switch from pain to pleasure. Derek thrust into him over and again while Stiles gasped and rocked his hips to meet each motion. He whimpered and gasped Derek’s name in potent need. Derek groaned and reached up to slide a finger into him, testing his depth and width. Stiles looked far too small from the outside, but he was as elastic as a woman and his muscles tightened and tented as Derek probed. While Derek explored his entrance the human became overwhelmed and his dick spurted across his belly, completely untouched. Derek lifted his head, still moving his finger to find the best angle, and watched him come undone. His cries were far from muted now, filled with desperation. When the last drop fell to his abdomen his member barely lost rigidity and his movements against Derek’s hand only became more frantic.

“Please, please,” Stiles gasped.

Derek growled low, reassuring, and moved over his body to capture his lips in a searing kiss. He plunged his tongue inside of Stiles’ mouth and the prince suckled on it hungrily while grasping at Derek’s ass to try to pull him in faster. Derek growled against his lips and kept his hips in place with his hand, one finger still buried in Stiles’ cunt. He curled his finger and found what he was looking for. In absence of a clit he had a p-spot, or perhaps a g-spot, that when touched brought cries up from his throat while his body grasped at Derek’s digit. Derek broke the kiss to guide his cock to Stiles’ entrance, pressing the head in slowly despite his wriggling and soft pleading. Derek was panting with lust, the arm he leaned on shaking as he fought for control. He wouldn’t harm the willowy beauty beneath him no matter how urgent his own need.

Derek sank into him with a relieved breath, the tight clench of Stiles’ virginal body keeping him in control better than a ring around his length possibly could. Derek held his place, letting Stiles adjust to the unfamiliar girth inside his body. He was so proud of his mate. Stiles had only made a soft sound of discomfort before forcing himself to relax as much as possible and let Derek in. Now he moaned softly and rolled his hips, rubbing his sensitive parts along Derek’s length with a soft whine.

“Derek,” Stiles gasped, “Fuck, I’m so full.”

“So good,” Derek breathed, mouthing along his neck and grazing his skin with his teeth. He pulled free slowly and groaned in bliss as he slid home again with ease, “So _wet_ for me, Stiles.”

“Oh, _gods_ , you said my name.”

“Mm, Stiles,” Derek growled, hips flexing again.

Stiles’ thighs tightened around his hips, his legs around Derek’s waist. Arms and feet pushed him to move faster and Derek couldn’t control himself. He was pounding into the prince beneath him, breath hot on his shoulder as Stiles gripped his ass and cried out over and again. His pleasure spurred Derek on more and he grunted each time he buried himself in delicious, wet heat. A scream from his beloved coincided with his length being clenched tight as Stiles’ climaxed again. Only a small amount of fluids splashed on his belly so this orgasm was internal, his secret feminine parts sucking his dick like a decadent mouth as Stiles climaxed around his length. The shock in his cries let him know how very new this was to his mate and Derek threw his head back to howl out his pride at having given his mate such pleasure.

Derek was breathless, stars dancing behind his eyes as he barely caught enough air to let him stay conscious. He lay across Stiles’ body and was vaguely aware of his hips continued motions. He wasn’t through. He needed to mate with Stiles fully, his body _craved_ him. Derek drew in a deep breath and pushed himself up onto his knees.

Derek pulled free, cock pulsing and tightening as the knot formed. He knew he had to get Stiles into a safer position for this, one that would cause him the least pain. He quickly manipulated the prince’s limbs until he was on his face in their leafy nest and lifted his hips. He pressed into him with a minimum of prodding and sank deep.

“Oh gods, that…” Stiles gasped.

“This will hurt,” Derek gasped, “S-sorry.”        

Derek got in a few quick thrusts and then his knot expanded at a brutal pace and he was tied tightly to Stiles’ body. Derek’s cries were broken and desperate, pleasure so intense as to be painful as orgasm after orgasm rolled through his body. He gripped Stiles’ hips and felt every single surge into his womb as if it were blood pulsing in his heart. Stiles let out a soft sound of understanding beneath him, one hand reaching up to stroke his thigh.

“Yes, that’s it,” Stiles breathed, “Fill me up with your cubs. Is that okay? Can I say cubs? Fuck, will they be born with pelts or do you give them to them? Derek, I want them to have your _eyes_. And claws. And teeth. Er… maybe the teeth later when they’re done nursing though, okay?”

Derek’s mouth twitched up into a smile but he was too breathless to respond. He hadn’t heard Stiles’ make a single noise of pain when his knot had expanded and he was so _proud_ of his mate’s strength. Stiles was made for him. The way his back arched and his moles dotted his flesh like spots on a pelt. Derek pulled his own furs free of his shoulder. Magic kept it close to his body unless he removed it himself, but in this instance he didn’t hesitate to pull his second skin free of his shoulders. A chill shivered up his spine at the exposure but it was a necessary part of the ritual. Derek lay the fur down on the ground and tilted to the side, pulling Stiles carefully with him so they lay down together with part of the fur touching them. The rest he pulled over them, wrapping around their bare torsos to keep them close as life and love allowed.

“I share with thee my strength, power, breath, blood, and pack,” Derek whispered into his hair.

Stiles clenched his hand tightly, “I… I know this. I read this. Okay. I… I give to thee the fruit of my womb and my… my… eternal loyalty. I am your pack and mate until the moon falls from the sky.”

Derek turned Stiles’ head and their lips met in a slow, gentle kiss. He lay still afterwards, warm and satisfied in all ways. His mate was soft against his body, their vows exchanged, his pelt the tie that bound them, and his belly distended with their future. Sleep came easily to Stiles, but Derek stayed awake until he heard the return of his pack to their lands. His mother knelt beside them and Derek’s eyes fluttered open for an instant to smile up at her. She stroked his hair back and smiled tearfully down at Derek and his claimed mate.

“There you are, my son,” Talia whispered, “How I’ve missed you these many years.”

Derek let himself rest then, waiting for his knot to go down and release him from his mate’s body so he could properly prepare for their life together.


	7. Chapter 7

Derek bolted for a bush to relieve himself the second he was free of Stiles’ body, prompting the human to laugh and then swear as his body leaked onto the ground. Stiles stood up and walked over to Derek, draping his pelt over him as he pissed for what felt like ages. Stiles pressed a kiss to the tattoo on his back and then stepped back and stretched. A moment later he was peeing beside Derek, crossing his stream and snickering like a teenager. Derek shook his head in amusement, gave himself a brief shake, and stepped away to pull his fur in and greet his pack properly. Excited yips and barks met his return and Derek licked happily at his packmates faces while they returned the greeting. Stiles fearlessly waded in amongst the gigantic wolves and let them knock him about, petting their fur and laughing at their licks along his torso and jaw. Derek was proud of his human mate and happily boosted him up onto his shoulder, prancing about as he showed him off to them all. Stiles tolerated the snouts pushed against his groin with only minimal embarrassment.

 _He is meant to be the mate of a faoladh_ , Talia told Derek, nipping her son’s ears lovingly.

_He is perfect and was fertile when we mated. I may soon be a father!_

Talia threw her head back and howled out her joy, the rest of the pack happily joining in. The move was risky at the border of their property, but they would not be staying. No sooner had their howls died out than Derek took off at a fast run, his mate keeping his seat with a firm grip of both knees and hands. He led them towards the human’s territory and Derek flew with tail upraised in joy. He would have preferred to take his time and claim Stiles more fully, but without oil there was only so much they could do together. After his mate was safely restored to his father’s territory Derek would make the time to take his other hole and perhaps coax his shy mate into taking him since the parts were there to be utilized. He wasn’t sure how it worked between two male-bodied specimens, but he was sure a word with his pack would supply him with plenty of information.

XXX

Stiles was elated. For years as a child he’d played _faoladh_ with Scott and their other packmates, and now Scott _was_ a _faoladh_ and Derek was his werewolf mate. His father couldn’t even argue the mating, because Derek was a prince as well. They were well matched. He’d have to get Derek to agree to a human marriage or the church would go ballistic, but Stiles was certain that a bit of fluttering eyes would do the trick. Meanwhile he was on his way home with warm pants and a tunic made of soft leather, quite possibly deer. Derek’s mother had given it to him with a promise that it was _not_ a mating gift. She assured him Derek would provide him with that as soon as Stiles’ safety was assured.

Derek, Talia, and Scott arrived at the clearing near the altar where the king had set up a tent with a contingent of guards. The king himself came out in a hurry, eyes wide and face haggard with worry. Stiles dismounted from Derek before he’d even stopped and staggered before getting his feet under him. He bolted for his father and threw his arms around his neck while the king held him tightly.

“Stiles, my gods, Stiles,” Stilinski sobbed, “I thought I’d never see you again.”

“Dad, I have _amazing_ news!” Stiles pulled back, smiling up at his father.

“I know,” Stilinski laughed through happy tears, “They’re real. I knew, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. Your mother didn’t approve of them.”

Stiles’ smile wavered, “My mom?”

“She didn’t believe sickly children should be taken from their parents,” Stilinski replied.

“Well… I mean… Scott’s happy as a _faoladh_. He can breathe now, hold down a job, play sports, maybe become a soldier like he always wanted.”

“Nevermind that,” Stilinski stroked his cheek, “Let’s get you home and looked over by the physician.”

“Yeah, but dad-“ Stiles pointed back towards Derek, “He has to come with me!”

Stilinski barely glanced back, “I only brought enough clothes for Scott. The rest will follow in a few day’s time once I’ve had enough time to tell the people of their change in status. They’ll only be in danger if they join us now.”

“But-!” Stiles tried to protest, then looked back to see Derek and his mother nose to nose, communicating about something in a language he could read but not understand. Whatever they were saying, Derek was fine with Stiles leaving his side.

_I’ll just have to trust him._


	8. Chapter 8

Derek had a lot of work to cram into a short period of time. His mother was going to take a few of their ‘wolves with her to the castle to greet the king and start on arrangements for their kind to join their people. They would be retaining their lands, but now they would be officially stated as _theirs_. Ownership of Beacon Hills Forest would be stated in records and they’d be given not only access, but welcome into the Stilinski markets to commerce. Conceivably they could buy land and live there, but he doubted they’d do more than visit... most of their kind, at least. Isaac was clearly pining for Scott and the other beta had headed home with barely a backwards glance. Derek himself would of course be living in the castle with Stiles since he was the sole heir to his father’s throne and Derek was a spare.

Derek had chosen a bear as his prey for his marital gift and had hunted it down quickly and efficiently, so he was in the midst of salting the hide when his mother showed up to lick his cheek and bid him farewell.

 _I shall return in a week’s time, longer if it takes more time to establish our presence in the kingdom_ , she told him, a happy smile on her lupine face.

“I’m going be delayed by this damn hide,” Derek growled, “I would have chosen smaller prey but Stiles already has clothes in abundance and finer than we make here. I intend to make him a rug for his fancy fireplace. You will give him a token for me?”

 _That isn’t tradition_ , his mother sat down and her smile vanished, but reappeared a moment later _, Of course I will._

Derek smiled and held out a smooth stone, carved with their clan’s symbol and well worn from Derek stroking the shape. It was something he’d had since he was a child though he didn’t hesitate to part with it where his mate was concerned. His mother let him lay it on her tongue and turned without another word. Derek returned to his work with less of a brooding expression, though no one nearby would dare to point it out.

It took five full days for Derek to tan the hide, make it just the right suppleness, smoke all the meat into jerky, create candles from the bear’s fat, and make a necklace of the bear’s teeth interwoven with wooden beads he carved himself, and weave baskets for it all to be carried in. It was a grueling task and he often stayed up late working by candle, though he refused to use the candle’s he’d made for Stiles. The only thing he did not create by hand, all by himself, was the wagon. He decided he could _certainly_ skip that bit considering Stiles was filthy rich and Derek already owned a wagon. It would do him no harm to not get a brand new one. Derek filled the wagon and Erika hitched him into it, kissing his snout before seeing him off. He headed towards the kingdom at a fast pace, unafraid to walk the roads in his lupine form now that the kingdom knew they existed and were welcome there. Derek walked through the castle’s gates and his hackles rose as they were quickly shut behind him. Something felt off. He pulled the release on his harness and quickly freed himself from his cart, standing in human form with his pelt pulled carefully around himself.

“The king would see you,” A guard stated, stepping forward with a schooled expression.

“Where is my lady mother?” Derek asked, picking up the initial offering basket. It was the largest but he hefted it by the handle with ease and allowed it to rest on his back, leaving one arm free for defense.

“Inside with the king.”

Derek frowned. That wasn’t right. Talia would have greeted him at the gate. Derek nodded for the man to lead the way and braced himself for the worst, but nothing could have prepared him for the scene he walked in on.


	9. Chapter 9

Stiles was broken, betrayed, and absolutely devastated. His father had taken him immediately to the court physician, no surprise, but what Stiles hadn’t realized was that it wasn’t to check on his overall health. It was to check on his purity. The doctor started out simply and Stiles’ minor wounds were treated with salve before he was asked to lay back and… spread his legs. Stiles was startled. The health of his secondary privates had always been cared for by himself alone, his mother having taught him to keep himself clean and then Melissa explaining things when his menses started. To find himself suddenly under the hands of an old man whom he’d only previously trusted with head colds was alarming. Stiles immediately asked for Melissa’s presence and the doctor granted it without hesitation.

Melissa wasn’t thrilled to be pulled from her reunion with Scott, but she only gave him a bit of lip for it. While Scott had been raised almost as spoilt as Stiles, they all knew that he was _not_ royalty. Melissa obeyed orders, even if she was given leeway to apply a healthy amount of sass as she saw fit. Many had even accused her of sharing the king’s bed, but Stiles was saddened to know that it was false. His father had no interest in others past his wife’s death and Melissa’s stomach remained unencumbered with a new sibling for the boys.

“Now then,” Gaius instructed, “Lie _down_ , my young lord.”

Stiles obeyed, spreading his legs and lifting his testicles less the man attempt to do so for him. He’d washed himself, but he was sure there were _other_ signs that he’d been sexually active.

“Look, I know what you’re looking for, and frankly I’d rather tell my dad myself, okay? He shouldn’t hear that his son’s… you know… from a doctor.”

“As you wish,” The doctor replied kindly, patting his shoulder before prodding Stiles’ nether parts curiously, “Was a skin used?”

“Skin?” Stiles asked, eyebrows furrowed.

“To prevent pregnancy,” Melissa reminded him, taking a hand and looking worried. She must have cottoned on to what was being said.

“No,” Stiles replied, “Guys, you don’t have to look like I’ve been given a death sentence. I wasn’t forced. We’re in love. We’re married, even. I mean, in the eyes of _his_ people. I just have to do the proper thing here, too.”

Melissa gave Stiles a baffled look, “One of the guards?”

“No, no, the w- er- _one_ who rescued me,” Stiles replied, not sure ‘wolf’ was good way to put things in front of the physician. He wasn’t sure who knew and who didn’t.

“It isn’t uncommon for ‘heroes’ to also be villains,” The physician stated, helping Stiles sit up and handing him back his clothes.

“He’s not a villain,” Stiles scoffed, pulling his tunic on and reaching for his pants, “He’s my husband.”

“Undoubtedly you made vows by moonlight with no witnesses?” The physician replied with a sad sigh.

“Well… actually, yeah, but… that’s how _his_ people do-“

“A common ruse used to trick young maidens into surrendering their virtue,” The physician replied, “No matter, my dear. You are in luck as I am privy to antidotes for such… tricks.”

“Wait, no,” Stiles shook his head while Melissa stepped around and put her arm around him, giving him a gentle squeeze and a pitying glance, “No, there’s no _antidote_ needed. I wasn’t drugged! I mean, I was, but that was _way_ before we had sex and I was totally recovered.”

“He _drugged_ you?!” Melissa all but shouted.

“Not intentionally,” Stiles replied, “I’m the one who sucked the poison out of his arm!”

“This tea,” The physician stated, turning to Stiles with a steaming glass, “Is _very_ bitter. You will have to drink it all at once. You will experience terrible cramps and bleed for several days. I will have your father tell those expecting you that you are recovering from the trauma of your kidnapping. No one need ever know you were tainted.”

“I’m not _tainted,_ ” Stiles scoffed, and then glared at the tea, “What do you mean, bleed?”

“It will start your menses, my dear prince,” Giaus stated, “To end any possible conception.”

Stiles paled in horror and knocked the cup onto the floor, smashing it into pieces while Melissa jumped in surprise and the doctor looked on in outrage.

“My dear young lord!” He snarled, “That tea is _very_ rare and expensive! It is also difficult to brew! I shall require nearly an hour to make so potent a dose again!”

“Take it yourself when you do!” Stiles shouted angrily, “And I hope you shit out your intestines!”

“Stiles!” Melissa gasped.

“I’m not killing my babies!” Stiles replied, hands flying to his stomach, “You can’t make me!”

“Stiles,” Melissa soothed, “You’ve been _tricked_ , sweetheart-“

“No,” Stiles snapped, “I haven’t. I’m keeping my babies and my husband is coming here to live with me!”

“Did he tell you that?” Melissa asked.

“Well… no, but… I mean, he doesn’t talk a lot…”

“What promises did he make?”

“To… to be my mate and…”

“Where is he now?”

“He didn’t have any- Look, I know what I’m on about! Melissa, he’s my _husband_.”

“In a fake marriage, Stiles,” Melissa insisted gently.

“No,” Stiles stated, “In a _foaladh_ marriage!”

“A _faoladh_?” The doctor asked, trying to hide a laugh.

“Yes, a _faoladh_ ,” Stiles stated firmly, standing up and shoving his feet into his shoes. He left without tying them, risking the fall to get away from their pitying stares.

Melissa followed, “Stiles! Who was it? Scott will know him and can make him be accountable.”

“You don’t have to,” Stiles stated, “He’ll be here.”

“Stiles!” Melissa grabbed his arm and Stiles tripped over his laces, nearly falling to the floor. Melissa managed to catch him, and when she saw him fighting back tears her eyes softened, “I’ll help you through this.”

“Will you? _Really_?” He snarled.

“Yes,” She replied firmly, “If this is what you really want, than I will help you. I just want you to think about it. You can still drink the tea for up to a week from now.”

“Fine. A week,” Stiles stated, “He _will_ be here.”

Melissa sighed, “Now we just have to convince the king.”

“Oh gods,” Stiles groaned, “ _Dad_. He’s going to freak.”

“Yeah,” She nodded, “Yeah, he is.”


	10. Chapter 10

Derek was faced with a silver-haired man with broad shoulders. Rather than wearing fine jewels as kings were often want, he was wearing armor while his hand rested on the hilt of a sword that’s point tip rested between his feet on the marble slab his throne sat upon. His cold eyes stared Derek down while two fully armored men marched up to Derek and announced that they had to search him for the safety of the kingdom. Derek was grateful that his kind weren’t shy about their bodies as he was instructed to hold his arms out and allow them to search him.

However, his kind _were_ very private about their pelts and these _strangers_ were putting their damn hands on it! They moved it about and one tried to pull it from his shoulders, but the pelt would not leave him without Derek’s permission. Terror still pulled through his gut as his mind flashed back to Kate and her violent attempts to take his pelt by force when she hadn’t managed to lure him into taking it off. She had eventually tortured him into letting it fall, but when she laughingly threw it over her shoulders it was just that. A pelt. A fur that did nothing to make her the beast she wished to be. In her rage she’d thrown it into a fire and Derek had screamed in pain as the pelt was seared by the fire. It was far worse than anything else she had done to him and the bitch had known it immediately. She had pulled his pelt free, patted it off, and hung it back over his shoulders. The softly whispered promise that she would finish with him tomorrow had left him full of dread. As such he’d been awake and shaking in fear when his people had rescued him hours later in the darkness of night.

Derek came out of his panicked recollection with a shaky breath as the guards backed away. The king was watching him carefully and gestured for him to step closer once the guards walked away. He was glaring at Derek’s exposed groin so the ‘wolf pulled his pelt around him again, wrapping it in easy folds so his privates were covered.

“Sire,” Derek dropped down to one knee, but the rest of what he had to say dried up on his tongue.

“So. You’re the bastard who took advantage of my son when he was vulnerable, emotionally and physically,” The king glared out in a fair approximation of a werewolf’s gravely growl.

Derek’s eyes widened in horror and he became still, eyes moving around to search for the young man he had claimed… or his mother, who could perhaps claim his innocence. He awkwardly picked up the basket the men had rooted through and held out the contents in silence. The king motioned and Derek stepped closer, eyes on that sword, and showed him the gifts he’d made for Stiles.

“What am I supposed to do with that?” He growled.

“Stiles,” Derek replied with a grunt.

“Your mother mentioned you weren’t the most eloquent,” King Stilinski grumbled, “I can’t believe my son let you near him. You _do_ realize we are _rich_ and that all you have in there are bits of an animal? You marry my son and _you_ make out _, not him!_ ”

Derek stepped back, glancing at his meager offering.

“It’s symbolic in my culture,” Derek replied, “I know that Stiles is…”

“Is _what_?” Stilinski snarled, “Traumatized?”

“I never meant to hurt him,” Derek replied insistently, “I would _never_ hurt him.”

“He was _vulnerable_ ,” Stilinski snapped, angrily rising to his feet and stalking forward, “He had been ripped from his home, tortured, starved, and you threw him down and had your way with him! Then you show up a week later with, what? A basket that looks like it came from a poacher’s hut? What _exactly_ are you going to give my son in his lifetime that can equal what he will give to you?!”

“Love,” Derek spat out before he could think of a more suitable response.

“Love?” Stilinski scoffed, “You barely know him!”

“That’s not true!”

“You met for a day at most! You were running for part of it and sleeping for the other! I can accept that you _both_ were swayed by adrenalin, but don’t lie to yourself as well as me! You don’t know him from a common whore on the street! So, I’ll ask you again? _What_ are you going to do when you two have nothing to talk about? When he’s running this kingdom while you sit on your ass looking pretty?”

Derek was fuming mad, “I’ll tell him stories about my people.”

“Oh, that will take up a few evenings of a lifetime!”

“Which if you knew about would silence your ignorant speech.”

“Excuse me?” The king snarled.

“My kind find our mates by _scent_ ,” Derek replied, “Stiles and I aren’t just attracted to each other’s asses, we’re chemically compatible! We are _meant_ to be together and will find our _own_ way through a lifetime of evenings! We will surely struggle, but there is _nothing_ I would not do for my mate! Including tolerate you!”

King Stilinski’s lip curled up, “Oh, you’ll _tolerate_ the king of this country, will you? Well I suppose that’s a hair better than planning my assassination.”

Derek could feel the color drain out of his cheeks. He couldn’t believe he’d talked to the _king_ that way! Derek couldn’t even find the words to tell him he’d _never_ murder his mate’s father!

The king, however, cracked a smile and nodded, “Alright then. Good thing my son’s the talker because you’d do terrible in a politics. He’s up in his room making a mess and having a tantrum because I insisted I get to grill you first. Franklyn will take you. Go give him your weird gift. Welcome to the family. Wedding is tomorrow at noon.”

One of the guards chuckled and motioned for Derek to follow him and the werewolf hurried after him without a backward glance, despite the fact that he was turning his back to an armed man.


	11. Chapter 11

“Your Majesty, we still don’t have the names of the people responsible for abducting the prince,” Dr. Deaton reminded him, “If you declare war on the _faoladh_ you may find yourself boxed in by _two_ enemies; one that shares your lands.”

“How do you know it _wasn’t them?_ ” King Stilinski raged, shoving his way out of the chair in his war room.

“ _Have_ we asked Stiles?” Deaton asked, eyes twinkling a bit.

“Well…” Stilinski growled, “No.”

“Perhaps we could-“

“You know him!” Stilinski turned towards him angrily, “He’ll prattle on for an hour and he’ll tell me _what happened!_ I don’t want to hear about my son being raped by some damn animal!”

“From what he’s told me,” Deaton replied softly, “It was hardly coerced.”

“He doesn’t know what he’s talking about!” Stilinski replied, turning towards him angrily, “Stiles is a _child_! He was vulnerable! Frightened! Tortured! From the weight he’d lost they practically starved him as well! Then something from his childhood stories comes along, rescues him, feeds him, keeps him warm, and he falls into the bastard’s arms like… like…”

“The manipulative and endearingly opportunistic brat that we know and love?” Deaton suggested.

“That’s your _future king_ ,” Stilinski growled, narrowing his eyes at his old family friend.

“I know,” Deaton replied, “Do you, your majesty?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Sire, Stiles has been raised to be brilliant and protect himself and his kingdom. He’s been taught multiple languages, politics, deductive reasoning, and self-defense. He fails only in the latter. Stiles knew what he was doing. When I spoke with Melissa she told me about how he manipulated his own captors to make sure that his… _condition_ … wasn’t found out. He wasn’t so much scarred by his experience as excited that he’d managed to weasel his way out without revealing himself!”

“And his words on his… _assailant_?” King Stilinski asked, face to the painting of his kingdom on the wall he often gazed at when contemplating the kingdom’s safety.

“That he was gruff, soft-spoken, and needed someone to talk for him because he didn’t know how to use his words,” Deaton replied, “Frankly he sounds perfect for Stiles. Perhaps you could take some time to get to know him before you commit to burning his forest down and slaying his kin?”

King Stilinski turned around with a heavy sigh, “I wasn’t going to burn the forest down. I like that forest.”

Deaton nodded and Stilinski leaned back and rubbed his hand across his face, “Why are children- royal or otherwise- more difficult to care for than a kingdom full of subjects? I hear of village dying out due to poverty, sickness, or some horrid violence and I feel sick, responsible, and angry. I find ways to help those who survive and I mourn those I could not… at least for a day. My son so much as stubs his toe and I hear his cries for… well, I can still hear the first wail of pain he ever uttered echoing in my ears. Frankly, every time I think of a child dying in my country I picture his face. It’s devastating. His pain teaches me to love others, but how do I let him love someone besides me? How do I step back and acknowledge that it’s time to let someone else pick him up when he falls? And how the _hell_ do I let my _obnoxious child_ pick whom he spends the rest of his life with when he’s never even chosen what he _wears_ each day?”

“He chose this morning,” Deaton chuckled, “I saw him mock-fighting Scott in the yard with sticks while wearing the furs he was returned to us in. Returned to us _safe and sound_ , I might add.”

“Safe and sound and quite possibly with a bun in the oven,” Stilinski growled, “Fine. We meet him. But I’m going to be an ass about it.”

Deaton smirked in amusement, “May I be in attendance, my liege?”

Stilinski snorted, “Do you have any kids, Deaton?”

“I’m afraid I haven’t had that blessing,” Deaton replied.

“See, that’s why you’re one of my advisors,” Stilinski replied, “You’re smarter than I am.”

XXX

Talia was surprised to find the king surly about the union between their children. He didn’t express it to her directly, but every time Derek or their children’s marriage was brought up he glowered miserably. While Talia wasn’t expert at reading human facial expressions she could certainly take a hint so she stopped talking to him about it. It was enough to know that Stiles was ecstatic and eager to listen to her advice on pregnancy. They spent many hours together in the library, cheek to cheek, going over his plans for raising their little cubs. He wanted to know everything about their culture and absorbed it like a sponge. Talia decided to talk about the finer points of his son with the king instead of focusing on her own offspring since his majesty was so determined to suck lemons whenever Derek was mentioned.

“Your son is very intelligent,” Talia stated as the king walked with her in the gardens. She had requested they not remain indoors too often since she found them confining.

“Thank you,” Stilinski replied with a smile, “A bit _too_ smart for his own good.”

“They often are at that age,” Talia chuckled.                                                                                                                                                                                             

“Oh?” Stilinski asked, his voice turning crisp, “How many decades ago was Derek that age?”

“Our kind age differently than yours, but Derek is hardly much older than Stiles emotionally,” Talia replied, “Why _are_ you so opposed to this union? In light of our kingdoms merging I would think that having our children fall for each other would be a blessing! No longer need we negotiate, we can just let them fight it out like newlyweds do.”

Stilinski caught himself in a laugh, shaking his head in amusement, “You know, you have a point there. If I could just _meet_ your son perhaps I’d have less of an issue with it. I don’t know the man my son claims he’s in love with, and frankly I’m not sure _he_ does!”

“Oh, there isn’t much to know about my Derek. If it were _Laura_ he’d fallen for we’d be having such deep discussions, but Derek! Oh, darling-“ Talia caught herself, putting a few fingers over her lips, “-my apologies, _your majesty_ , I love my son dearly but he’s an uncomplicated young man. He enjoys the quiet of the woods, a good brawl, and rich food.”

“And my son, apparently,” Stilinski replied bitterly.

“He does,” Talia replied, “I know my kind have different social responses than yours, so allow me to explain to you how much your young prince means to mine. A decade ago the very people who have launched an attack on you by kidnapping your son did the same to mine.”

“What?” Stilinksi stopped their walk in shock, turning to her with a frown on his face, “Why didn’t you bring this up? It changes everything!”

“Hardly,” She shook her head, “Let me explain. You know their kind lead by women, yes?”

“Yes.”

“Well, after the royal family was murdered in the night the younger sister of King Argent rose to power. Katherine the Despot, they call her, but before she was called that the people called her beautiful and she certainly was. Derek was… what we would consider underage compared to her. She visited us in the forest and pulled him in with her pretty overtures. Derek knew she wasn’t his mate,” Talia shook her head, “We have a way of telling these things, you see, but it doesn’t change basic attraction. I tried to tell my little cub that she was dangerous, but he ran away with her. The poor thing. Our pack had to track him down and pull him out by force. He came back to me covered in injuries that he was too ashamed to let heal. She tortured him.”

Talia lifted her head with tears in her eyes and Stilinski waited for her to continue.

“Derek was ashamed that he’d enjoyed it up until she’d tried burning him alive,” She replied, then noticed Stilinski’s wince, “I apologize. I forget that your kind don’t discuss sex so openly. Either way, I counseled him to the best of my ability only to face the most shocking event. She attacked us in our homes.”

Stilinski’s eyes widened, “Over a spurned lover?”

“Not at all. Derek believed she had been using him to discover our secrets. She attempted to burn our forest down and murder us while we slept. What she didn’t realize was that we had children who are capable of working magic and they destroyed her containment ring and let us loose on her and her men. She escaped and none of our people were murdered, but my little one was tormented with guilt. He never allowed himself to become close to another, not even when he met another human who he _did_ know was a possible mate for him. Women, specifically, were unable to draw his attention. Then Stiles came along and… My Lord, he brought my son back to life again. I know this is sudden and alarming for you, but my son will always be good to yours. He will cherish him. Can you ask for more?”

“No,” Stilinski shook his head, keeping his voice low, “Except perhaps why they bear you such a grudge? They asked for your deaths in exchange for my son.”

Talia smiled sadly, “They’re descended from people from England. In England many centuries ago there was a war between humans and werewolves. Some say it was based on a forbidden love, others a property dispute. The truth is unrecorded. Either way, they killed off my cousins in England. Now they come here and their culture is so entrenched in a lie about my kind being monsters that they do not seek the truth. Perhaps Katherine’s brother would have listened to reason- we had met a few times and he wasn’t violent- but that is all in the past.”

“Mm,” Stilinski nodded and resumed walking, bringing Talia with him as they wandered, “You do understand, that I _still_ have to give him a hard time, don’t you? I mean, he’s gone and married my _only_ son beneath my nose.”

Talia chuckled, “Oh, my, I wouldn’t have it any other way!”


	12. Chapter 12

Franklyn led Derek down several hallways and up a flight of stairs before leaving him in front of a door with a vague gesture. Derek stood there staring at it for a moment, trying to remember the human custom for entry before deciding he didn’t need to announce himself before entering his _husband’s_ rooms. Derek turned the ring and pushed the door open, glancing around what looked like a library. Derek hadn’t been in a library in years and his eyes shot over to the books with a greedy longing before something far more precious caught his attention. Stiles had pushed through a curtain from another room and when he saw Derek he gasped in excitement.

“Blessed Moon, Derek!”

Derek had to toss the basket as Stiles shot across the room and threw himself into his arms. Stiles’ lips pressed firmly against Derek’s as the human clung to him, legs squeezing his hips tightly in a _very_ familiar way. Derek grasped his thighs and once Stiles had balance the werewolf slid them up to his plush bottom. Stiles tilted his head and the kiss deepened to an intimate glide of wet muscle. Stiles moaned and Derek gripped his rump firmly, but just as he got a good, slow grind going he caught the scent of another wolf. Derek broke the kiss and turned to the side to glare at Scott where he was staring at them in horror while Stiles nipped and licked at Derek’s neck.

“Oh, man, guys. Please. Stop,” Scott pleaded.

Stiles sighed through his nose as he broke the kiss and smiled down at Derek, “Let me just kick my brother out.”

Derek nodded and let the young sprite down. Stiles motioned him out of the way of the door and Derek stepped aside so Scott could flee.

“Bye, Derek, nice to see you again, glad you’re mostly covered,” Scott rambled before slamming the door behind himself.

Stiles went to throw himself all over Derek again, but he held out a hand, “Just a moment, beloved.”

“Beloved!” Stiles snickered, “You’re so totally getting head tonight.”

“Head?” Derek asked.

“I’m going to suck your dick until your eyes roll in your head,” Stiles informed him.

Derek paused in the midst of pulling out the bear pelt, steeled himself to _wait_ , and straightened up with a solemn expression.

“Oh!” Stiles’ eyes widened, “I forgot! The mating gifts! What did you make me?”

Derek smiled softly and held up the folded bear pelt, “Bear.”

“Is that a rug or bedding?”

“Rug,” Derek replied.

Stiles bounced in place, “I’m going to suck your dick until your eyes roll in your head _on a bear skin rug in front of the_ _fireplace!”_

Derek smirked and laid the rug over a nearby chair before reaching into the basket again. He pulled the next round of gifts out and happily presented each to his mate. When he got to the meat he explained that it could be donated to the local poor since Stiles didn’t need it and Stiles practically melted.

“You are an absolute _prince_ , and I mean that figuratively!” Stiles crowed, throwing his arms around his neck again, “I’m going to wear that necklace to our wedding. Hell, I’m going to wear it forever! Maybe we could have a candle lighting ceremony. I wasn’t sure if you’d want that or not, but with the candles…”

“Yes,” Derek agreed, leaning down to return the kisses along Stiles’ neck. He wasn’t sure what a candle lighting ceremony was, but if it made his mate happy and involved the goods he’d made him than Derek was excited to learn more.

“Oh, _gods_ , I’m so glad you’re here. I’m seriously soaking through my underthings right now.”

Derek growled hungrily, pulling Stiles back up into his arms, “You’re so ripe I can taste it on my tongue from here. You’re ready to breed. It was a hair too early before, but now…”

“Mm, I want your cubs,” Stiles gasped.

Derek groped for the bearskin and headed for the fireplace, tossing it down over the rug already present. It would be nice and soft for his mate’s slender hips. Derek dropped them down onto it, framing Stiles’ body with his own and growling as he glared at the clothes before him.

“Take those frilly things off before I slice them off with my claws.”

Stiles gasped and arched, wriggling as he struggled out of his clothes with lust-blown eyes. He looked halfway to satisfied and Derek smiled smugly. While filling Stiles full of his cubs was imperative, it would only be the beginning. Making his mate’s body happy was a start but his mind needed to be just as blissful. Stiles’ asshole father had reminded him of that.

Stiles nearly kicked Derek in the face getting out of his clothes but then paused and frowned, “Actually… could we take this to the bed? I have about a _dozen_ fantasies about being ravaged by a _faoladh_ who snuck into my bed in the middle of the night and we already did the whole… ground thing.”

Derek laughed, “I’ve never had sex in a bed.”

“First for us both, then!” Stiles replied, smile dwindling a bit.

Derek scooped him up, tossed him over his shoulder and looked around himself, “Where?”

“Through the curtain,” Stiles laughed, kicking playfully.

Derek gave him a swat on the bottom and he squealed and squirmed a bit more. The werewolf walked him through the bedroom and tossed him down on the bed before dragging the blankets down it while Stiles scrambled to get beneath them. Derek growled and pounced, drawing another shout from the excited young man. He grabbed his arms and pinned the wrist above his head while Stiles squirmed and spread his legs wantonly.

“Okay, yeah, this is _totally_ doing it for-“ Stiles froze when Derek’s fingers brushed something cold beneath the pillow and the wolf caught the scent of fear out of the blue.

Derek cocked his head to one side and released Stiles’ wrist to pull the stone out. He smiled at the familiar curves as his fingers brushed across it, leaning back to stare down at the well-worn carving. Derek looked down at his mate and held up the stone.

“Why did this alarm you?” Derek asked.

“I… it…” Stiles sat up a bit, his erection wilting as he licked his lips and gave Derek a worried look, “I was holding it to, you know, comfort myself.”

“That’s why I sent it with my mother,” Derek replied.

“Yes, but…” Stiles sat up, “It’s _why_ I had to… I was freaking out, Derek. You weren’t here and everyone was telling me you _used_ me to get your rocks off and they wanted to make me drink this tea to kill our babies and-“

Derek had let out the inhumane snarl before he could check himself and Stiles’ free arm flew over his face. Derek took a slow breath in, pulled his claws back, and gently stroked Stiles’ arm while the little human hyperventilated.

“Stiles, beloved,” Derek breathed, “I would never hurt you. Never. Tell me, beloved. Did you drink the tea?”

“No,” Stiles lowered his arm, blinking up at Derek with wide eyes, “Every time they pressured me and I started doubting you I came up here and just… traced the lines of the stone. I kept telling myself it was important to you and you’d come back to me.”

Derek looked down at the stone in his palm, “It’s been in my family for generations. Each swirl means something. Alpha, Beta, Omega. The hierarchy of a pack. It was last entrusted to me because my two younger siblings didn’t need it anymore.”

“What do _you_ need it for?” Stiles asked, concern making his eyebrows lower.

Derek met Stiles’ eyes, “I had such guilt after… I needed to control my shift and I was too angry. Holding it and reciting my mantra kept me sane until I met you. I knew then that I didn’t need it anymore.”

Derek took Stiles’ hand in his own and placed the stone back against his palm, closing it gently, “ _You_ are the important something I came here for.”

Stiles smiled and sat up, grasping the back of Derek’s head and pressing their mouths together in a hungry kiss. Derek lay down across him, wrapping him tight in his arms. His instincts were telling him to breed his mate, but he wondered if that were the best course of action. Stiles needed _emotional_ comfort rather than sexual gratification. However, his mate’s slowly gyrating hips were countering any attempts his brain had at giving him that. He reached up and grasped at Derek’s hips and whimpered softly. His scent was intense, full of lust and longing and Derek’s need outweighed his good sense.

Stiles slid Derek’s pelt up his hips, his fingers running through the fur as gently as they stroked the orbs beneath. Derek’s eagerly rutting hips found their way beneath Stiles’ balls and the wet heat swallowed him up. Derek could barely suck in a breath as the tightness enveloped his aching cock. He wanted to blow his load right at that moment, and from the way Stiles quivered around his shaft he wasn’t sure it would matter. He pressed in deep and held himself in check as he reached down between them to grasp Stiles’ weeping prick.

The human gasped and Derek was gratified to find his hopes well founded as the young man erupted between his stroking fingers. Derek groaned and nibbled his plush bottom lip as Stiles gasped and arched against him. The second Stiles’ climax passed Derek slid free, found him perfectly wet, and fucked into him fast and hard. He adjusted his grip to grasp his beautiful bottom while burying his face in his lover’s neck. Every thrust rocked the bed and Derek found the motion aided and excited him further. He was grunting with each push while Stiles grasped his ass and let out little croons of excitement. When the human dug his fingernails into his ass Derek couldn’t contain himself and buried his quickly swelling knot in Stiles’ body. He would have apologized if he weren’t so desperately gasping for air as his seed filled the omega’s body. Stiles was still rolling his hips and the motion sated his beautiful mate who began to quiver and gasp beneath him.

The long, drawn out orgasm left Stiles shaking with pleasure. His cries were echoing in the chamber as Derek continued to meet his restless shifting until they stilled together, breath stirring hair as they held each other close. Derek’s body continued to pump out seed to fill Stiles’ womb, sending shivers of pleasure up his spine and addling his brain further.

“You make me stupid,” Derek gasped.

Stiles snorted, “You make me wanton.”

“Good. I worked night and day on your gifts. I didn’t have time to pleasure myself. I wanted to save my seed for you… see your belly swelled up with our cubs.”

“Ew, I’m gonna get fat,” Stiles snickered, “Will you still love me?”

“So, so much,” Derek purred, gasping as another pulsation through his cock made him jerk hard against Stiles’ body, “Blessed Moon! Mate sex _is_ the best sex!”

“Am I really better than whoever you had before?” Stiles asked, stroking fingers through Derek’s hair.

Derek growled deeply, “So much better. You’d never hurt my pack.”

“Gods, no!” Stiles breathed, “He hurt your pack?”

“She. Yes. Tried to kill them.”

“I’d call her a bitch but I’m worried that’s a compliment for your kind.”

Derek growled and arched his back, grinding into Stiles’ body, “ _My_ bitch.”

“Thought so,” Stiles groaned, “You’re rubbing me so right. Can you do that again?”

Derek let out a low growl of acquiescence and began to roll his hips firmly. His mate whined and met his motions, grasping at his bottom and encouraging his movements. His knot was overstimulated, burning hot, and making him gasp with each movement. It was worth it to hear Stiles’ cries amping up beneath him as he reached between them to tug on his dick.

“Yes,” Derek growled, dragging his teeth across Stiles’ neck, “Play with yourself, pretty boy.”

“D-Derek!” Stiles gasped, his body clenching around Derek’s tense knot as he let out a choked cry.

Derek groaned and shivered, “I haven’t anything left.”

Stiles panted a moment, smelling deliciously of joy as his pressed kisses to the side of Derek’s head.

“What if I want more?” Stiles teased.

Derek huffed in pretend irritation, “I’ve got a long tongue and very strong fingers.”

Stiles chuckled, “I like this plan. We’ll keep it on the back burner. For now… sleep.”

“Brat,” Derek grumbled.

Derek turned them onto their sides hiking Stiles’ thigh over his hip and helping him get comfortable. Stiles sighed and Derek nuzzled into his neck with a loving lick or two at the beads of sweat gathered there.

“Taste good.”

Stiles gave his shoulder a squeeze, “You’re really staying?”

“Can’t get rid of me.”

 


End file.
